Strawberry Syrup
by Emo-Ki
Summary: Craig, Tweek, and strawberry syrup. Mature. One shot.


Goosebumps break out over my skin as lukewarm strawberry syrup trickles slowly down my bare back. A squeak escapes my parted lips at the sensation. It makes me think of things that aren't syrup. Or bright red.

"Smells good, doesn't it?" Craig asks me. He's the one pouring the syrup onto my back. He's the one who convinced me to strip down naked and shave off what little body hair I had so that he could take pictures of me. Or, more specifically, the strawberry syrup running down my lower back and butt.

Does it? I take a sniff of the air and yes it does smell rather sweet. In a totally artificial way. Real strawberries smell better, but this isn't bad. Its like candy. But not. "Y-yeah."

"How's it feel?" The first crude words I'm about to say are choked on as the slow-moving syrup reaches my butt. What do I do? Do I do anything? I don't want to ruin Craig's picture. He's already warned me that if I mess it up we'll just have to do it all over again.

I don't know if I like this feeling. "Warm. And sticky." I answer him. Behind me I hear the container being set down. A camera clicks a few times, taking digital pictures that will be put on Craig's computer and posted to his website.

These particular pictures aren't just part of his hobby. They are for his photography class. The entire class will see pictures of my ass covered in strawberry syrup. My heart pounds to get out. "You know what else is warm and sticky?" Craig's tone is playful.

"Craig," I whine. By now I'm sure my face matches the artificial syrup on my back. The heat increases as some slips between my butt cheeks. Oh my god if I do something stupid like get hard I'm going to die of embarrassment. Just don't think about what it could be.

But of course Craig ignores me as his camera goes _click, click, click_. "Melted icecream." Then he laughs because he knows what I was thinking. Before I can demand he hose me off, Craig says, "I'll buy you some superman icecream after this."

He moves around behind me. Even though I'm facing away and my eyes are closed, I know when he's close and when he's backed up some. When he changes my position Craig's hands are light on my skin. Briefly I see his black hair while he puts a bar stool in front of me so I have something to lean on. Like everything else in his studio, its white and clean.

My butt is sticking out more than necessary – in my opinion – and I'm grateful for the stool. C_lick, click, click. _Craig is lucky that he doesn't get embarrassed about stuff like nakedness. "I'm not surprised superman icecream is your favorite." Sometimes Craig makes conversation with me and sometimes he doesn't. This photo session is one where he wants to talk, I guess.

"Because it tastes good?" That's why I like it.

"No." Of course he doesn't agree with me. "Its because you're gay." He makes jokes about my sexuality like its really my sexuality. I'm not gay. Or straight. Or bi. Or anything. Probably.

Naturally I have to point out the obvious here. "Liking rainbow icecream d-doesn't make me gay." I want to twist around to glare at him but I know that he'll just make me stand here longer if I move around without permission. Photographers.

Syrup drips down my balls. Fuck. "One of these days you'll admit your gay." His tone isn't condescending. He makes it sound like he's just stating a fact. I don't like it. The syrup is getting cooler. I don't like that either.

"One of these days you'll accept I'm not." Comes my predictable reply. The clicking is still going on and I sense him getting closer. Maybe its because we're best friends that I know where he is, always, in relations to me. I don't think about it too much.

Craig doesn't touch me a lot during these things except to lightly manipulate my body into whatever position he wants it in. I've seen the pictures he takes of me. Somehow he makes me look good. Not too skinny or pale or ugly. I know he uses Photoshop, but I also know he only uses it sparingly.

So I'm surprised when I feel something sliding down between my shoulder blades. The goosebumps that had disappeared earlier come back. My eyes shoot open with surprise as I twist to see. Craig has artificial strawberry on the corner of his mouth. I want to lick it off but I know this stuff tastes awful. For some reason Craig likes it. But Craig likes weird stuff.

His silver-blue eyes dare me to say something. My neck starts to hurt so I twist back around. His tongue drags down my back again. "Can't you just hose me off?" I grumble. Part of me doesn't really want him to.

He knows this. "Hose is broken." More licks, long and warm. Even after this I'm going to need a shower.

Bullshit. "You're g-going to get sick." We both know he won't. This is the syrup that Craig drowns his pancakes in. Basically, he can consume a lot and be totally fine.

"I'll be fine." He stoops lower. I know he's missing a lot, but he isn't doing it for the strawberry syrup. The dramatic sigh I let out is ignored. Craig coaxes my legs farther apart. Probably on his knees right now while his tongue pokes and prods. I don't think I can get any hotter. So much for not getting hard.

Surprisingly I don't really care that I'm obviously turned on. Mostly because I am turned on more than I've ever been in my life – which isn't hard to do – and all I'm thinking about is that tongue doing whatever Craig wants it to do. Pleasure tightens around my spine and pulls at me. It makes my breath come in pants and my back arch and soft moans escape.

Craig angles lower, causing my breath to hitch. Oh, I'm going to burn up from the inside out. Then he's gone, but not really because his hands are still on my hips. If he leaves me like this I'm going to kill him. One hand moves to my face, turns it so I'm facing him. Looking into his hazy stormy eyes I feel another spasm of pleasure rocketing down my spine.

His lips look like cherry candy. Our lips meet. The syrup isn't to my taste so he doesn't push it. Instead he trails sticky kisses down my neck, finding the spot that makes me whine for more. I lower my head to stop the ache in my neck and expose as much of my neck as I can. My heart speeds up when I hear him messing with his belt. Shortly after comes the zipper and then the swish of fabric on skin.

Craig's fingers finds my entrance and one is slid in. On the stool I bury my face in my arms to muffle my moan. My hips betray me, rocking back against him. Another and I want more. Craig leaves it at two, sliding them in and out. I'm trembling when I murmur his name. His member is hot and hard and exactly what I want. My eyes slide closed as my fingers curl around the edges of the stool.

When we move the stool moves a few centimeters too. Its just one of those things I can't help but notice. Craig keeps his hands on my hips to hold me against him. Even though I don't like artificial strawberry, I turn my head to kiss him. I'm a dying man and Craig is salvation.

Neither of us lasts more than seven minutes but it doesn't matter because it was amazing. Strong arms wrap around my middle while he leans against me panting. I'm warm and safe and happy in his arms. I could literally stay here forever. He doesn't tell me he loves me but he doesn't have to because I already know. We stay like that for a moment longer before he pulls out. We both groan.

Craig doesn't say _I told you so_ about me being gay. Or at least liking guys. "Two scoops or three?" He asks. I turn around and see the sticky bright red on his stomach and upper thighs. It makes me smile. We go out into his backyard to use the broken hose to wash off. The studio – really just a shed Craig converted into his studio – has its own hose since Craig has been known to make messes in the name of art.

"Three." I inform him, deciding that I deserve it for not complaining. Even though I already got a pretty great reward. After towel drying I slip on my clothes. Craig goes into the house to change and brush his teeth. A few minutes later he slips out into the backyard and holds out his hand to me. Taking it, I snuggle up against his arm and let him lead me to his car so we can get icecream.

"We'll have to do that again." Craig tells me. I hope he doesn't mean the syrup thing. It wasn't bad but I'd rather not be all sticky. The sweet scent is still on our skin. "Are you free next weekend?"

Craig makes me happy and being happy makes me smile. "Yeah." I tell him. No matter how he decides to photograph me, I know it will end up the same way as today. And that's okay because we're in love. Not that we've ever said it out loud; but some things you don't have to say out loud for them to be true.


End file.
